


Ashes & Embers

by MarigoldVance



Series: The Boy King [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU - Sword in the Stone (elements), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fíli Is Mute, Kíli Is The Sweetest Babe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22197748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarigoldVance/pseuds/MarigoldVance
Summary: Kíli gives Fíli a chance to find closure.
Relationships: Fíli/Kíli (Tolkien)
Series: The Boy King [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1597873
Comments: 18
Kudos: 31





	Ashes & Embers

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  _this takes place sometime in Fíli and Kíli's adolescence._   
> 

It had been a simple thing. A glimmer on Kíli’s face when they were elbow-deep in the soil, digging away the ground to make space for ceremony.

The assault had come from all sides, in the middle of the night and without warning. Their numbers were shattered now; less than half of what they’d been the morning before. Men, women, children; slaughtered for a threat that existed only in the Usurper King’s mind.

Now, in the late afternoon heat, those who remained prepared the burial mounds, some gathering wood for a funeral pyre while most shoveled holes where the dead would find their peace. Fíli and Kíli worked alongside one another; Fíli made his task wide enough for the family that had been cut down in their attempt to escape; Kíli worked vigorously to carve the family’s runes in the memorial stone.

Fíli didn’t want to think too hard about what they were doing or why. It burned his throat, stung his eyes; he was panting through the pain, muscles tight and sore, as he threw himself harder into what he was doing to distract himself.

That was when he finally looked up to take some air and saw Kíli’s face and the look that Fíli couldn’t decipher.

Whatever it was, he didn’t have time to ask. There was too much to be done.

He would ask later, when they were alone. When they were safe in the quiet of their tent. Safe to be open with one another the way they couldn’t be with anyone else.

Safe to mourn.

≈

Fíli forgot to ask Kíli about whatever Kíli had been thinking the day they laid the dead to rest. Kíli’s father had called for everyone to gather what they could and make for new lands, a new haven where they would pitch their tents and rebuild their homes. Things became hectic, some still shaken from the attack, most lost in a head-fog of grief who couldn’t understand what was being asked of them. As a result, their people were short of food and basic supplies.

Still, their numbers would grow again. Families would be made. They would survive.

Fíli was certain.

≈

A few weeks later, Kíli led Fíli away from their new camp, holding Fíli’s hand as though he was afraid Fíli would disappear. He was carrying a torch which Fíli thought was odd since Kíli could usually maneuver through the thickest dark without issue. Fíli didn’t question it; he simply followed his friend further into the forest.

Wherever Kíli was taking them, Fíli knew there was a reason.

Some steps ahead, Fíli could see a patch of untouched forest floor. A circle of low, lush grass made blue-green under moonlight. In the center of that circle was …

Fíli gasped and quickly wrenched his hand from Kíli’s grasp.

In the center of the circle were two burial mounds, the ground beneath them undisturbed. The stones were piled in the Gypsy tradition and, between them, was the funeral pyre, ready to be lit.

Fíli frowned, confused, his eyes flickering between Kíli and the mounds.

“I thought – ” Kíli began but stopped himself, looking at his feet for a moment before gathering his courage and continuing, “I know you haven’t had a chance to grieve them. Not properly.”

Fíli released a choked puff of air, clenching his fists and jaw as he began to understand the weight of Kíli’s words; understand the opportunity Kíli was _thoughtfully selflessly kindly_ offering.

“I know it’s not the same but … perhaps, this way, you could offer them peace?”

Kíli stepped closer, his movements careful as though Fíli were some skittish fawn. And, in truth, Fíli couldn’t be sure he didn’t feel as such.

Fíli waited for Kíli to come within range before he grabbed Kíli by the back of his neck and brought their brows together, pressing his grief and pain and gratitude – and _love_ – into Kíli’s skin. As if he could transfer all he was thinking and feeling through touch and shared breath.

“Maybe,” Kíli murmured, lifting his hands to cradle Fíli’s face between them, “You can find your own peace as well.”

Fíli wasn’t convinced that was possible, but he nodded nonetheless and allowed Kíli to lead him closer to the mounds. Kíli held the torch out to him, his expression soft and encouraging; an uptick in his lips and embers in his eyes that promised Fíli the world and more.

Accepting the torch, Fíli allowed his fingers to linger over Kíli’s for longer than was right, he knew, but he _needed_ Kíli to know how much this meant. Kíli gave Fíli a curt nod and moved to stand behind him. Fíli brought to mind an image of his mother and father, before the stink and corrosion of death had taken them. A bright memory filled with tinkling laughter and wise words and all the love Fíli remembered his parents had for him.

With a shaky breath, Fíli lit the funeral pyre.

He watched the wood catch fire, flames licking and dancing higher with every memory Fíli conjured: His mother’s voice, like birdsong, and his father’s strong arms in an embrace; rare moments when they didn’t have to be more than _family_ – not poised and proper for their people.

The knot in Fíli’s heart began to loosen, ever so slightly, as he mouthed the Gypsy prayers, including what he could recall of the traditional blessings of the House of Erebor – blessings he’d only had to speak twice when his grandparents had passed.

Fíli felt a firm hand on his back, thumb stroking comfort and compassion between his shoulder blades. Kíli didn’t speak, giving Fíli what time he needed to say goodbye and, hopefully, find a little piece of closure.

When the moon was high and the pyre was little more than a pile of soot and ash, Kíli once again took Fíli’s hand. He pulled Fíli close, holding him with one arm around Fíli’s waist and the other around his shoulder, hand gripping the back of Fíli’s neck securely.

Fíli bent his head to rest on Kíli’s shoulder. He knew Kíli was offering him a place to release his grief without judgement, but he didn’t feel the need to shed tears. In fact, Fíli felt lighter than he had in years, the great weight of guilt and loss somewhat lifted.

He sighed and pressed further into Kíli, daring to lift his head after long minutes of being against each other in a way they hadn’t really been before.

Fíli followed the lines and angles of Kíli’s face, drinking in as many details as he could before he settled his eyes on Kíli’s amber gaze and the breathtaking _everything_ Fíli found there.

Without thought or hesitation, Fíli leaned in and closed the sliver of space between them, catching Kíli’s lips in a chaste kiss. There was no passion, no heat; there didn’t need to be. It said everything Fíli needed it to say.

And when he pulled back, snared by the intensity in Kíli’s eyes, Kíli whispered the same promise he’d made since they were boys – the same promise Fíli knew Kíli would make until the end of their time:

“ _Always._ ”


End file.
